"It's worse than I thought," he said glumly. "She's a closed-minded sn.o.b."

"Yeah, but she's totally salvageable."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, she's with you-Mutch and Musch-to try and improve her self-image. She doesn't get why other people like reading what she hates writing. That's not sn.o.bbery. That's someone who doesn't feel good about herself and takes it out on everyone else."

"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" he whined.

"Be her agent. Help her sell the ma.n.u.scripts she cares about."

He nearly choked at the absurdity of the idea. "She doesn't need me."

"Wrong, oh bastion of insecurity."

"I'm not insecure!"

"Scared to death, then."

"Is that supposed to be a professional opinion, you little twit?"

He heard the distinct sound of popping bubblegum. "I know you are but, like, what am I?"

"Goodbye, m.u.f.fy."

CHAPTER TWELVE .

Marnie was trying to work in Joe's home office; her gaze was riveted on the computer screen as she reads a few lines from her literary effort.

"Rachmaninoff's Misery," she read aloud. "Ahhh...no." She backs.p.a.ced and tried again.

"Rachmaninoff's Tears. A literary novel by Marnie L. Hammer.

"Chapter One. Kirsten sensed the coming spring, sensed it as an alcoholic sensed the nearness of fine wine. Too long she had been a virtual prisoner in her apartment, with only the company of her flat- mate, Jeff, to beat back the boredom of the long winter days. She had known Jeff exactly four months and twenty days, and thought him splendid in all ways, save for his manner of speaking without thinking. And, of course, the way he sprayed saliva when he spoke."

She backs.p.a.ced; tried again. "And thought him splendid in all ways, save for his manner of speaking without thinking. But he was young. Time would teach him restraint. And speaking of restraint, she wished he would exercise a little less of it. Rather than remaining aloof as a well-fed cat, she wished he would notice her. She yearned for his touch on her face, her shoulders, her creamy, upthrust b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wanted him to take her, to know her, as a man knows a woman, intimately, deeply...repeatedly. She...

" Oh you numbskull, this isn't working!"

She brought her fists down on the keyboard, instantly typing gibberish. More gibberish, anyway.

Then she took a deep breath, deleted the chunk, and started again. "Rachmaninoff's Tears. A literary novel by Marnie L. Hammer. Chapter One. Kirsten sensed the-"

She cut herself off as the front door slammed, and c.o.c.ked her head, listening. She could hear someone stomping around in the living room, the rattle of keys, a grocery bag being slammed onto a table. Then the beep-boop-boop-beep-boop-boop-boop of someone dialing a touch-tone phone. A long pause, as if someone was listening to an answering machine message, and then...

"You jerk," Joe spat in a low voice...one that carried perfectly. "I thought you cared about me. Don't ever call me again."

She breathed out, her heart contracting a little in empathy. "Oh boy."

She heard Joe, obviously dumped again, slam the phone into its case. After a long moment, she got up and headed for the living room.

Once there, she saw him pouring himself a drink. Pure whiskey, straight into a gigantic water gla.s.s.

This was usually for show-Joe liked to walk around with a gla.s.s full of hard liquor, but gagged after the second swallow and ended up pouring the rest of the booze down the sink. But tonight he had the look of a man who was planning to drink until he puked, gagging or no gagging.

"Don't do it, hon," she said sympathetically. "You'll be going to the bathroom all night. You know that stuff's a diuretic."

He didn't answer, just took a defiant gulp, then coughed explosively.

She cleared her throat. "So...ah...Curtis decided to go back to the ex-girlfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend. The one before Sara. Austin somebody."

"A flexible young man, Curtis."

He flinched and she was sorry to see it; she hadn't meant to add to his pain.

"But him being a cheesy s.l.u.t doesn't mean you're a bad person," she continued. "In fact, his decision probably doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Next you're going to tell me it's not me, it's him."

"Well, it's true."

"Basically, I wasn't enough for him. But that doesn't have anything to do with me. I mustn't blame myself."

"He was a bimbo! You were smarter than him and better looking, I might add. Frankly, there was nothing for him to bring to the relationship."

"It's not that I don't appreciate this-actually, I don't appreciate it."

"You'd rather be here sulking by yourself?"

"To preserve our friendship, I won't answer that. Listen, if I'm as great as you say...why can't I find anyone?"

She rubbed her temple. "Oh, jeez. Why do you think that because you haven't found anyone, it has to be a failing in you?"

"Because it is a failing in me."

"By that logic," she said reasonably, "then I deserve to be alone, too. Is that what you think?"

"Well. You're a sn.o.b...and irritating, sometimes...and you don't know how to dress...and you get p.i.s.sy when you don't get your own way...and you take your good fortune for granted..."

She waved him along. "Yes, yes..."

"But no. I don't think you deserve to be alone."

"There you go. I don't think you deserve to be alone. See? We agree."

She waited expectantly, but Joe didn't get it.

"Why are you still here?" he asked.

"Hey, you didn't let me wallow in self-pity when I was Jessica LeFahrvegnugen. Now it's your turn to be cheered up against your will. To start..." She tried to take his whiskey gla.s.s away; Joe held on; they struggled. Then he spitefully let go and she found herself drenched with Canadian Club.

"Nice try, but that didn't cheer me up."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! I'mG.o.d, this stuff stinks! I feel like I should be lying in a gutter."

She smacked him on the arm; he smacked her back. They glared at each other, then attacked like crazed alley cats, kicking, scratching, growling. They ended up on the floor, Marnie on top; she grabbed his shoulders and jerked him to her until they were nose to nose.

"Repeat after me. The bimbo. Wasn't. Good. Enough. For me."

"I smell booze," he said sternly. "Have you been drinking?"

She clutched her head. "Aarrggh!"

"The worst part is, that's the last drop of liquor in the place. And I'm not nearly drunk enough to quit."

He managed to flip her off him and then pounced, grabbing her shirt collar and then sucking on the cloth.

"Stop!" she shrieked. "That tickles!"

"Now if you kept c.o.c.ktail onions in your hair, you'd be the perfect woman."

She tried to slap him away, but she was laughing too hard. And when his lips moved to her neck she stopped laughing. Practically stopped breathing.

Joe pulled back and looked down at her. "You're the greatest."

"Yes. FYI, if you don't kiss me, I'm never speaking to you again."

He bit his lower lip. "Marnie..."

"Shut up, fool." She grabbed him and pulled him toward her for a long, searing kiss. He half- heartedly resisted for a moment, then gave up the pretense and began-oh, thank G.o.d!-kissing her back in earnest.

"Do not stop to wring my shirt out over a gla.s.s," she muttered.

"Later," he growled back.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN .

Afterward, Marnie thought, well, I guess it just didn't occur to him that a.n.a.l s.e.x wasn't the goal of the day. It didn't matter, though. Well, it had stung like crazy, and she was still mystified by the whole thing-what was the big deal?-but at last, at last they were one.

It had been amazing at first, like being a teenager again, when s.e.x was the most exciting thing in the whole world. When it was all you could think about, and when, when you were finished, you couldn't wait to do it again. She and Joe had been like that when they were dating-curious, insatiable.

This time, they both had some years under their belt. They certainly weren't kids anymore. And they both had their own condoms and, in Joe's case, a truly amazing selection of lubricants.

He hadn't gone anywhere near her c.u.n.t, but had lavished attention on her a.s.s, and when he eased inside her she'd been stroking her c.l.i.t from sheer hunger, and had been able to bring herself off while he pumped inside her.

Okay, so, not exactly fireworks. But that was all right. They had years to get it right. h.e.l.l, they had the rest of the day to get it right. What mattered was, Joe had finally realized they were meant to be together, it was fate, destiny, it was...

"This was a terrible mistake."

"What?"

"I am so sorry."

"What?"

"You must be so p.i.s.sed at me."

"I'm starting to be."

"I know, I know. I don't blame you." He sat up and looked at her, shaking his head. "Like things weren't bad enough. Then we had to go screw up a perfectly good friendship. No pun intended."

"Joe, this just makes our friendship better. I love you and you love-"

"Stop trying to make me feel better! The last time you did that I took advantage of the best friend I've ever had. It was stupid, stupid."

"I thought it was okay. No bells and whistles, but...we're a little out of practice."

"Make that a lot out of practice."

"Well. Let's get back into practice. Try not to call out another man's name this time."

"You're joking, right?"

She said nothing.

"Are you insane? I'm gay, Marnie."

"I've heard the rumors."

"Last night didn't change that. Nothing will change that."

"Don't you have any feelings for me at all?"

"Have any-I love you, idiot! You're my best friend. But we're not going to be lovers, Marnie."

"Again."

"What?"